I've Found My Sweet Escape
by BethBobby
Summary: Stiles isn't coping well with the aftermath of the Nogitsune. In fact, he isn't dealing at all.


**I've Found My Sweet Escape  
by  
BethBobby**

* * *

_I've found my sweet escape,  
When I'm alone with you.  
You are my getaway  
You are my favourite place  
- 5 Seconds of Summer 'Disconnected'_

* * *

Derek frowned down at the huddled mass of duvets and blankets before turning back towards the door, contemplating a hasty retreat before he saw Scott's face pleading with him to do something. It was one of the first times Derek had ever seen him look truly terrified.

He understood Scott's concern; they were all in over their heads here.

It had been three weeks since the Nogitsune and judging by the smell in Stiles' bedroom, the boy hadn't showered in as long.

All the pictures, maps, theories and strings had vanished from the walls, but the inherent sadness of the teenager who inhabited the room hadn't left with them. He could feel the agony and guilt that hung within the room, centred around the bed and its occupant.

Derek sighed, waving his hand slightly in a signal for Scott to leave them, listening as the new alpha headed down the stairs, closing the front door as he left. He shrugged off his jacket and placed it over the back of Stiles' desk chair, taking in the bomb site that was Stiles' room.

"Stiles?" he called out, padding quietly over to the bed, hoping that the teenager was awake to hear him, not wanting him to be startled.

"Called in the cavalry did he?" came the mumbled reply. "Go away Derek, I told him, I don't want to see anyone."

His voice was harsh and cold, yet hoarse.

Derek winced, Scott had said that Stiles had woken screaming every time he managed to drift into something resembling sleep.

"I don't hear you leaving Derek."

The older man frowned, crossing his arms as he weighed up his options, attempting to decide on the best plan of attack.

He was pretty sure they were past niceties, Stiles had been given enough time alone to mull things over and descend into what could only be described as the beginning of depression.

"That's because I'm not leaving. You can't carry on like this Stiles, this isn't you." Derek told him, sitting on the edge of the bed and peeling back some of the sheets.

"Didn't you know? I wasn't me." Stiles blinked up at him, anger clear on his face.

Derek couldn't help but draw a breath at the sight of the younger boy, his once smiling, healthy face now gaunt and pale with huge bags under his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked as though he hadn't slept a wink since before the Nogitsune. Derek wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell of sickness that leached from Stiles, noticing the deep hollows above his collarbones where he had lost weight.

"Exactly. You weren't you. _You_ didn't do those things," Derek raised his hand slightly when Stiles opened his mouth to protest. "I know how you feel. When Kate killed my family, I blamed myself, I still do, but deep down, I know that I couldn't have stopped her. I was just an easier way in. Just like the Nogitsune used you. It could have been Allison, or even Scott. It is not your fault that it chose you. It isn't."

Stiles looked up at him and Derek could see the cogs churning in his mind, slower than usual but still as bright as ever.

"Allison's dead, Derek." came the eventual reply, Stiles' voice shaky with pain. "She's dead because I wasn't strong enough to beat it. She's dead and I gave the order."

"Stiles, tell me something. How could you have given the order when both yours and the Nogitsune's bodies were separated? You were with Scott and Lydia, not Allison and Kira. How could you have given an order when you weren't even there, you and the Nogitsune, although still linked, were no longer the same being." Derek told him, feeling the bed shake slightly along with Stiles' body.

"I.." Stiles broke off, his voice cracking as he buried his head in his pillows.

Derek moved his hand, cautiously bringing it to rest between Stiles' shoulder blades, his thumb moving back and forth as he stroked the boy's back gently. He didn't speak, couldn't force anything soothing or sympathetic past his lips, the words felt false and refused to come.

Stiles' hand snaked out to clutch at the denim of Derek's jeans and the material at the edge of his Henley.

Derek felt something hard settle in his chest, his throat constricting and he moved his other hand to squeeze Stiles' where it clutched at his clothing before moving underneath the other boy's chest and lifting him up, trying to ignore the feel of his ribs, much more pronounced than they should be. Momentarily discounting how light he was, Derek lifted him gently, slowly, giving Stiles time to pull away if he so wished, wanting his touch to feel comforting rather than constricting.

Stiles allowed himself to be lifted, his whole body limp as he collapsed against Derek, burying his head in the werewolf's chest, still sobbing, hands grabbing at his shirt momentarily before he brought his fists down on Derek's chest in frustration and anger.

Derek snaked his arms around the younger boy, closing his eyes and accepting the weak punches without complaint, feeling the muscles in Stiles' back relax as he stopped his small attack, uncurling his fists and laying his palms flat against Derek's chest.

The werewolf leaned his head down to rubs his cheek against the top of Stiles' head, ignoring the fact that Stiles obviously hadn't showered in a while, before resting his nose in the dark hair on the teenager's head.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, leaving Stiles boneless in Derek's arms, the fight having left the teenager completely.

Derek grimaced as he shuffled on the bed, trying to limit the amount of movement so as not to jostle Stiles, who appeared to be in limbo between numbness and unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry D'rek," he mumbled, Derek feeling the vibrations of against his chest before he heard the words.

"Stiles, we need to get you cleaned up okay? You can't stay here like this. You need to shower and eat."

"Don't wanna. Want sleep." Stiles' head lolled sideways as Derek stood, his arms still around the other boy to stop him from pitching forward and falling from the bed.

"Shower, food and then I promise you can sleep, okay?" Derek told him, kneeling slightly so that Stiles' forehead pressed back up against his sternum as he snaked an arm under the boys legs and lifted him bridal style, feeling a pang of concern when Stiles didn't object.

He carried Stiles out of his room, down the hallway and into the bathroom, closing the toilet lid before sitting Stiles gently on top of it, moving away to turn on the shower.

Stiles was clad in a pair of pyjama bottoms and Derek was relieved to see the outline of boxers poking out of the top. He pulled off his own shirt, shows and jeans, leaving him stood in only his underwear before moving towards Stiles who was watching him with a curious, yet vacant look.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked as Derek rested his hands on his thighs, his eyes searching Stiles' own, wordlessly asking permission to remove his pyjamas.

"We have to get you cleaned up and honestly, I'm not sure you can support yourself long enough to do it yourself. I can leave if you'd rather?"

Stiles shook his head, "I just want to go back to bed."

Derek tried to smile, but failed, pretty sure it came out mangled, "I know you do and you can, as soon as we've done this and you've eaten something. You've lost too much weight as it is. Scott and your Dad are really worried about you."

_So am I, _Derek thought, looking at the almost catatonic boy in front of him.

Stiles frowned, his hands moving to his hips to peel his pyjamas off, Derek tugging gently at the bottom, helping to slide them off. The older werewolf stood, wrapping a forearm around Stiles' shoulders and pulling him to his feet before leading him over to the shower and following him in.

The teenager cringed as the water hit him, pressing himself up against Derek more firmly, a hand unconsciously running down Derek's bare torso as the older man reached around him to grab the shampoo bottle.

"Close your eyes, okay?" he told him, squeezing some of the shampoo onto his hands before massaging it into Stiles' damp hair.

Derek heard Stiles sigh, a deep long breath that sounded as though it had been caught for hours, as the younger boy leaned into his touch, his eyelashes fluttering slightly with exhaustion.

Once his hair was clean and the shampoo washed out, Derek washed Stiles' chest with a loofah that had been hung over the shower controls, gently turning him to do his back.

"You don't have to do this you know." He heard Stiles mutter.

"I know. I want to. You're important to this pack Stiles," Derek hesitated before adding, "you're important to me."

He saw Stiles' shoulders slump slightly at the confession, "you shouldn't. You should all wish I'd died with the Nogitsune. I wish I had."

Derek span Stiles back around to face him, clutching his shoulders and shaking him slightly, "please don't say that. We would never wish that. What happened was not your fault."

"Sure feels like it," Stiles said, his eyes narrowing.

He followed Derek as the werewolf pulled him out of the shower; throwing towels around both of their shoulders, pushing Stiles back down onto the toilet seat.

"Will you be okay there if I go and get you some fresh pyjamas?" Derek asked, releasing Stiles gently, as though testing whether he would slide off the toilet. When he didn't, Derek moved backwards.

"Yes." Stiles nodded.

"I'll be two seconds okay?" Derek looked torn between getting Stiles clean clothes, but not wanting to leave him alone, even for a minute.

Stiles felt himself shiver, watching as this made up Derek's mind for him, the indecision gone from the older man's face as he backed out of the bathroom.

Derek grabbed the closest pyjamas that he could find, rushing back to the bathroom, not wanting to leave Stiles alone for too long.

As quickly and gently as he could, he dried Stiles, watching as the boy's eyelids grew heavier, his head drooping lower.

"Can you get changed if I leave you for a moment?" he asked, not wanting to overstep boundaries or do anything that could be seen as taking advantage of Stiles' current condition.

Scott had asked him to get him cleaned up and he had, but stripping him down completely was a whole other matter. Who knew what the Nogitsune had done to him whilst in control of his body. Derek knew from experience what it was like to feel like you had no control over yourself, and even in Stiles' current state, he knew that that would be a step too far.

Stiles nodded slowly, "yeah, I'll be fine."

"I'll be just outside," Derek told him, gathering his own clothes together and walking out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

He listened to the clumsy movements of Stiles beginning to get changed before he stripped out of his own soaked underwear, towel drying himself despite being mostly dry after the period of time he had spent on Stiles first. Derek pulled on his clothes quickly, hearing the lack of movement in the bathroom which meant that Stiles was finished.

"Stiles are you done?" Derek asked, knocking on the bathroom door before pushing it open slightly.

"Yeah. I'm done." Stiles replied weakly, back to sitting on the toilet seat when Derek re-entered the bathroom.

"Come on," Derek offered him his hand, waiting until Stiles took it before pulling him to his feet.

"Please Derek, just let me sleep." Stiles slurred, his voice almost incomprehensible even to Derek's ears.

"Just eat a little bit first, then you can sleep. When was the last time you ate?"

_When was the last time you got out of bed?_

Stiles shrugged, leaning against Derek's body as he allowed himself to be led downstairs. It was a slow process and he sank gratefully down onto the couch once they were in the living room.

He watched Derek move around his kitchen, as though he belonged there, pulling out a bowl and a can of soup from under the sink before opening it and putting it into the microwave.

Derek, who always seemed so _strong._

It made Stiles feel worse about the way he had broken down, he was weak. He had allowed the Nogitsune to possess his body, his mind, and kill his friends and then allowed it to destroy him even when it was gone.

He was _weak._

"Here." Derek was suddenly stood in front of him, holding a bottle of Gatorade. "Drink this."

Stiles took the bottle from him, sipping it slowly, feeling the cool liquid run down his throat and into his stomach. Derek offered him a small smile and Stiles felt his own lips unconsciously quirk in response.

"It'll be okay." Derek told him, suddenly able to form words of comfort.

The shower had returned some of the colour to Stiles' face, the once grey cheeks were now flushed a pale pink colour, though his eyes were still bloodshot from lack of sleep.

Derek retrieved the soup from the microwave, testing it to make sure it wasn't too hot before handing it to Stiles, who obediently spooned some into his mouth.

"How much do I have to eat before you'll let me sleep?" Stiles asked, the question sounding a little more like his old sarcastic self.

Derek laughed slightly, "I'm not counting mouthfuls Stiles. Just eat a little bit."

Stiles fell silent, the only sound coming from the scraping of the spoon on the ceramic of the bowl. When he had finished half of the soup he pushed the bowl away, shaking his head.

"I can't.." he said looking up at Derek, his eyes pleading with him not to push the issue.

"Okay," Derek said, standing to help Stiles to his feet.

The walk upstairs to his bedroom seemed miles away, despite Stiles feeling minutely stronger after having eaten something. He leaned heavily on Derek, his eyes falling shut as he battled to stay awake long enough to get to his room.

Once in his room, he collapsed onto his bed.

Derek dragged the sheets away from him, throwing them into the laundry basket in the corner before heading into the Sheriff's room to drag the duvet from his bedroom into Stiles' room, covering Stiles with them.

It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do for now.

Stiles pulled the duvet up to his chin and Derek turned to head back downstairs when he heard Stiles' tired voice.

"Please stay. I..nightmares." he told the werewolf, stuttering over his words slightly, as though confessing it was admitting defeat.

Derek hesitated for a second, before climbing into bed beside him, momentarily surprised when Stiles moved closer and pressed his face into his shoulder.

"Thank you," Stiles breathed, one arm wrapping around Derek's torso as the werewolf enveloped his arms around his back, holding him close.

Derek smiled faintly, rubbing his cheek against the top of Stiles wet hair, an affectionate gesture that his mother had done to him as a child.

"It's okay. Just sleep. Things will be better in the morning." Derek told him, inhaling Stiles' scent, no longer as sickly as it had been an hour ago when he'd arrived.

Stiles nodded into his shoulder, his breathing already evening out as he sank into a fatigued unconsciousness.

Derek listened to his heartbeat slowing for a few minutes, his hands drawing circles into the teenagers back, before exhaustion claimed him and he too fell asleep.

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Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think? Constructive criticism helps me improve!


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